…Because there’s just too much real life not to share.
Son, trying to name his new stuffed rhinoceros: Mom, I just can’t decide! I want to name him either “Tusky” or “Horny.”
Mom, eyes widening: Tusky. Let’s go with Tusky.
Son: No, I think I like “Horny.”
Mom, decisively: His name is Tusky.
Another nonsensical conversation filled entirely with nonsequitors–with my adorably ADHD son, who becomes ravenous at night due to meds.
Me, entering the kitchen, and washing off the salt, which he has slimed with green sludge while attacking a plate of avocado: You and your appetite at night…
Him: It’s swarsikachia.
Me: Come again?
Him: It’s shrucksatoxa.
Me: I’m sorry?
Him: A fear of sweat!
Me, grinning, recalling few times that my son isn’t happily sweating): Really. You. A fear of sweat.
Him: Or maybe it’s cooties.
Me: (speechless, laughing)
(Mom later had to look this one up: fear of sweat is soceraphobia. True story.)